


In The Valley Of The Dolls

by SlutWriter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ageplay, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Excessive Semen, F/M, Lolicon, Muscle, Racial Degradation, Racial Slurs (N-Word), Size Difference, Taboo Raceplay, belly bulge, dubcon, huge cock, huge insertion, rimjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlutWriter/pseuds/SlutWriter
Summary: A sex tourist relates the most forbidden and sexually lewd trip of his debauched life.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	In The Valley Of The Dolls

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a commission.
> 
> The characters and imagery are based on the work of the 3D artist Rivaliant.

I am a sinner who does not expect forgiveness. With the inheritance I received from a young age I set out to travel the world and experience every hedonistic delight offered by exotic ports of call; with a devil’s eagerness I partook in libertine depravities in violation of the laws of both God and man. But as I sojourned in flesh, no experience fired my heart and loins so completely as what I saw in the Valley Of The Dolls, which I now relate on these slim pages.

You shall know it all.

I heard it first as a rumor, as ephemeral and ungraspable as Shangri-La, whispered between libertines as we smoked hookah and groped handfuls of strange flesh. I was told it was not a place mere mortals were allowed to tread, lending it this supernatural vibe, and was told it was a place where only the most deserving of men, gifted in physical attributes beyond myself and my fellow lechers, would be tended to in ways forbidden in every other corner of the globe.

One man told me it was an island in the Pacific. Others told me it was somewhere in Thailand or the Carribean. And some told me it didn’t exist at all. But at last, on a debauched and sweat-soaked trip to the brothels of the far east, I encountered a fixer who told me he knew of the place, and that it was everything the rumors said it was - a place of pleasure yet beyond everything experienced by the rich and daring who had sampled every other type of forbidden fruit.

For a price of fifty-thousand, he said, I could go to the island and observe what happened there.

I asked what price would allow me to participate, and he shook his head, laughing at my hubris. “No price,” he replied, his accent thick with foreign strangeness. “The Dolls will only service a certain kind of man.” He looked at me evenly, and then said something I’ll never forget:

“All who go to the Valley Of The Dolls are cursed to see heights of pleasure beyond any other realm on earth. The brothels, the sex shows, the bought-and-paid-for acts of depravity and filth you and your ilk so eagerly seek out… none of it will compare. And once you leave the island, seeing what you have seen, you may never return. It is enough to drive some men mad.”

I gave a laugh, and acted like his warning was in jest. But inside, my heart was beating fast, for there was an earnest gravity to his words and countenance that told me it was no lie. A place so forbidden that it would change me forever! How could any sexual thrill-seeker say no? The sad truth was, decades of seeking out the taboo and the profane had dulled my synapses to stimuli that others would consider titillating. The threesomes, the obscene acts of consumption, the bestiality, the arranged incest of mothers upon daughters upon sisters in the dark corners of bead-curtained rooms. I thought I had seen it all.

I told the fixer I would pay, and shortly arranged with my bank man to access the needed funds, growing more nervous each day, anticipating what I might see, what filthy, inhuman sexual acts might be on tap in this so-called paradise. When the fixer was paid, I was given a location, a passcode, and a flight number for a short-hop helicopter charter.

Just where was the Valley Of The Dolls? An island, a piece away from the coast, but I am bound by contract and custom not to tell more than that; what I saw there should not be despoiled in any case by thrill-seekers wishing to follow in the wake of these memoirs. It was a place of aquamarine shores and sand so fine and delicate it felt like silk beneath the feet, and for my fifty-thousand I was given a small cabana near the beach.

On my first day I suspected I had been duped, for there was not another living soul around. The more luxurious cabins along the beach seemed utterly lacking in life. I had a fridge and larder stocked with the barest of amenities, and seemed to be looking forward to a rather drab and expensive vacation when, squinting down the beach at the furthest structures, I saw a tiny figure scamper out into the sand.

I could scarcely believe my eyes.

She was absolutely tiny, the picture of precocious energy, perhaps eight or nine years old with blonde hair trailing in the sea breeze behind her as she scampered… and yet despite her tender age, she wore a swimsuit lacking utterly in modesty. It was a black micro bikini, little more than scant string hanging on her hips and chest, drawing sinful attention to charms that quickly had me in a state of arousal, even at my distance.

I walked up the beach to have a closer look. Even then, at a distance, I knew she was too perfect to be mine; I was there to look, not to touch. And yet I felt a pang of grief in my heart that such a perfect, fair-skinned, blonde creature might belong to another. With only twenty feet between us I saw she had beautiful and expressive facial features - bright, shining blue eyes, long and pretty eyelashes, and pert young lips that seemed to scream sass and mischief. How I yearned to turn her tiny body over my knee and give her a spanking right then and there!

She took notice of me and giggled, then turned, striking a hand-on-hip pose and sticking out her shapely rump. It was perfectly round and grabbable, small due to her size but not in proportion to the rest of her body. I felt drool gather in the corner of my mouth, and as dizziness washed over me, perhaps from the rush of blood to both my head and my nether regions, I saw the rest of them, the rest of the dolls, scampering from their cabanas to join their friend.

Their tiny feet kicked up sand as they moved and smiled and giggled, five flawless girls, none even of double-digit age, and each one wearing a similar swimsuit to the first - little more than strands of fabric strung over their underdeveloped chests and tucked between their round, bubbly butts!

I could only stand to watch. They laughed with each other, playing in the surf, building sandcastles, chattering together in sweet and high-pitched voices. But it wasn’t their innocence but the lack of it that called to me and made me nearly crumble to my knees with lust. These elementary-school aged girls seemed flirtatious and sinfully sex-conscious. They admired each other's bodies, turning this way and that, rubbing and touching. I watched, mouth agape, as they produced suntan lotion and oiled each other up… and their licentious looks in my direction told me that they knew very well that I was watching, and they wanted me to see! Imagine, girls of such an age, thinking such things!

They spread blankets and ran their hands over each other, spreading lotion. The first one, the long-haired blonde, looked at me seductively as she ran her hands down to the bubbly young buttocks of pixie-trimmed, raven-haired friend, kneading the flesh of her bottom, letting me see every detail. The blonde at me, licking her lips, and spread her friend apart, letting me see the way the a tiny, barely-there black thong cut between the supple cheeks of her rear and the puffy mound of her outer labia.

“Do you like that, mister?” called the blonde, and I was so stricken with lust I could not even reply. The other girls were also looking my way, five tiny beauties. In addition to the long-haired blonde I have already described, and the girl with the short, dark hair, there was a pale-skinned girl with a ghostly complexion, contrasting with her hair of even darker black. She wore a black choker that in my mind spoke to submission and a love for pain. Another blue-eyed girl had sandy-blonde hair tied in two pigtails - she, along with the blonde, were slightly taller than the others. And finally, a brunette, hair chest-length. 

Any question of their innocence was dispelled as they spread their legs before me, gathered on one large beach blanket, and proceeded to rub lotion on their barely-developed breasts and bald pussies, all while giggling at my reactions. Their nipples each had the smallest bit of swelling, and their nipples were raised - a reminder of their female natures, but also of their pre-teen ages. I watched with eagerness as suntan lotion the thickness and texture of bull semen was slathered onto each girl by her friends.

My hand fell to my crotch. I couldn’t help it. I shut my eyes for just a moment against the feelings of lust, knowing it was too early, hoping there was more to come… and when I opened them, the blonde girl had moved closer, nearly within touching distance. I could smell the lotion and the perfumed scent of her young body.

“I’m Hannah!” she said, her voice sprightly. “Like what you see, mister?”

I blustered something. I do not remember. I  _ do _ remember that this was when I noticed the tattoo on her hip - the black suit of spades with a “Q” decal in the middle. As a veteran of every kind of debauched preference and arrangement, I knew very well what it meant, but in combination with such an innocent-looking, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, standing not even three foot tall- god! My mind wandered to the exaggerated, abyssinian black bodies so frequently featured in scenarios of that cursed type, a fetish favored among men searching for the most forbidden of society’s taboos. To those jaded lechers who have experienced all of life’s pleasures, the tawdriness of racism and miscegenation is compelling as any other dark act.

“You like my tattoo?” she giggled, winking and striking a hip-out pose to accentuate it. Her tiny thong bikini did almost nothing to hide her young flesh, I saw every detail of her nipples and slit as her blue eyes shone up at me almost tauntingly. I am not large of stature, and yet she was  _ so much _ smaller and shorter. A true  _ doll _ . And like any collector of that sort, I ached to add her to my collection, to own her, to dress her up as I wished, to make her mine.

I do not remember what I stammered at her in response, but I could never forget what she said next in her high and innocent voice:

“It means I’m a  _ nigger fucker _ .”

I am not ashamed to say I nearly fainted dead away from the obscenity of it. A blue-eyed, blonde, pre-teen uttering those words. I bit into my lower lip and blew air out through my teeth. The loose beachwear I’d donned was tented out lewdly by my erection, and I heard the other girls, who were watching the exchange, giggling at my pained expression.

Hannah bit her bottom lip cutely and looked up at me. “What the matter, mister? Do you think I’m a bad girl?”

“Y-you… I…” I couldn’t form any words. You must understand I make no judgments of men of any color or creed, for I have seen depravity and obscenity beyond all measure, and I know that sexual excess comes in every shade. In America, Russia, Africa or the Far East, I have seen madams count their money while ordering girls with half-lidded, submissive eyes to service the hungry, abusive men in ways most unnatural. Yet despite this color-agnostic worldview, Hannah’s words seemed to awaken a beast of racial animosity within me that was arousing in its ugliness, in spite of any intellectual objections.

She sat down on the ground then, leaned back, and spread her limber, thin legs, gazing up at me evenly as she pushed the tiny strand of her bikini bottom aside, exposing her tender young pussy - puffy, blushing, and completely hairless… far smoother even than the shaved twat of an adult, for there was no stubble, no hair follicles to be seen. Just a juicy, raised mound as soft as a veal cutlet. “See?” she asked. “My little nine-year-old pussy is owned by my big nigger daddy!” Her face took on a dreamy look, I could see her thinking about this unseen  _ daddy _ as she spoke. 

My cock was an iron bar, yet my hands hung impotently at my sides. I wanted nothing more than to take this bratty little blonde and punish her, lay her across my lap and give her round bubble butt a series of spankings. Her gorgeous blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin… to imagine her tiny body servicing the biggest, blackest cock from the jungles of Africa… it filled me with an impotent and vicious racial rage!

Yet she was not for me. There was nothing I could do, much as I wanted to throw myself upon her and make my own claim to be the owner of her silky-soft little pussy. She was a Doll, as unattainable as any treasure this earth has ever mustered. She knew it, too, and tossed me a bratty smirk as she scampered to her feet. “Our daddies will be here soon,” she said, in parting, turning to walk back to the beach blanket where the other oiled and giggling girls were resting. “You can watch, if you want.”

I stood silently and watched her stride away, those perfect muffin-bouncy girl cheeks wiggling on each side of her thong as she went, her flaxen hair trailing in the sea breeze. I did not know what to do. I felt enervated, and remembered for the first time what the fixer had warned me about - that the temptations of the Valley were enough to drive some men mad. Already I was losing myself in fantasies of taking a Doll for my own.

Yet they spoke of their daddies, and these beings shortly made themselves known. Note I do not say ‘men’, for what I saw on the beach that day seemed to be a sort of ubermensch, beyond human in their physiques and manly qualities. There were five of them, one for each tiny Doll, and they moved from the cabana entrances out onto the beach in measured, patient strides. They were unabashedly nude, and swollen with great slabs of muscle on their thighs, calves, chests and arms; such that the tiny girls looked like toys by comparison. Two had ebony skin, the others with complexions closer to my own, but any similarity to me ended there.

As they approached I confirmed that they were absolutely  _ massive _ . Six foot eight, six foot nine at a glance. My stomach churned with the obscenity of it. Each ‘daddy’ had a penis that was unspeakably large - eighteen inches, I would guess - and not thin, either, but stout, and topped with a great knob that was the size of my own two fists. I was aghast. These beasts, these men beyond men, to think the Dolls were their playthings! The girls were tiny compared to them, not even coming up to their waists… and those cocks! Those bicep-thick, heavy lengths of bull meat… they would absolutely destroy the Dolls’ little nine-year-old  _ kid pussies _ ! 

I half expected the little ones to run from these approaching giants like villagers before an ogre… but instead, the girls were happy and engaged with their approach, rising from their blanket at once and running over to the men as they lined up on the beach, cocks looming half-erect like sledgehammers over heavy balls. Beneath, their leathery scrotal sacs seemed as big as my head. I watched with breath catching in my chest as one by one, the girls approached their chosen muscle daddy and stood on their dainty toes, craning their heads up to press their lips against each glans.

I tried to remain calm but my mind was whirling. A line of tiny, nine-year-old girls… giving deep kisses to huge daddy dicks! Their cute butts round and inviting in their scant thongs, their eyes shut in loving concentration, I saw their little tongues moving worshipfully as the men, lantern-jawed and beastly, leered down from above. Each girl slid her agile, pink tongue into the large pisshole of her daddy and pursed her lips around the opening, suckling lewdly at the tip of each cock as if gaining sustenance from it! My jealousy became a shackle, weighing my spirit, as I realized that one such as I would never experience such service, such perfection - a tiny Doll who would stand on tip-toe and lovingly suck my cock as much as I liked!

I realized I could smell them - the musky, manly scents of their sweat, mixing on the beach breeze with the perfumed deliciousness of the girls. Their bodies were glistening, their corded, striated mounds of muscle painted with sweat. It was a strong smell, sexual, not precisely unpleasant, but it told the tale of their size and strength and alpha-maleness as surely as any narrator. It occurred to me the girls were not just kissing and worshiping their daddies but cleaning their bodies, rubbing their faces in musk, wanting their doll-like forms to be covered in their daddy’s scent.

My heart palpitated as Hannah, the perfect blonde girl who had taunted me earlier, set about kissing and sucking at the heaviest, blackest ballsack I could have ever imagined. She needed two hands just to massage one bulging testicle, and she made cute suckling noises as she licked and kissed. The air around her head seemed to shimmer with the thickness of the musk. And then the obscenity took an even darker turn as each hulking, beefy muscle daddy turned and allowed the tiny girls to stand on tiptoe and press their faces between their powerful buttocks, spreading them with miniature hands as they hungrily attached their elementary schooler mouths to their musky assholes!

These doll-sized little girls were kissing, sucking and worshiping the anuses of their hyper-hung bull daddies! And they were  _ loving _ it! Their adoration for their larger counterparts was evident in every movement, every groping little hand, every high-pitched, breathy peep that came from their mouths! And in the case of Hannah and her pigtailed, sandy-blonde friend, the racial component made the act even more of an offense to decency! “I love licking my daddy down here!” she moaned, looking at me for a moment before snaking her tongue back up between those muscled cheeks, slabs so large they nearly encompassed her whole face. She paused again seconds later. “It gets his nigger cock nice and hard for my tiny little white pussy!”

I fell to my knees, filled with lust and rage, with no ready outlet for either. As I’d been warned, the Valley Of The Dolls carried a terrible curse! For all of my debaucheries, all of my sins, the dark corners of the human experience I’d plumbed, I would never find girls as perfect as these tiny toys. Lacking the prowess of these men, the massive, muscled bodies that gave them license to own and use these girls… I would never have a doll of my own. Oh, how desperately I wanted to take Hannah and keep her as my own, my own personal pet, to service and suck my cock, balls and asshole for as long as I wished!

As I wavered on my knees, the foreplay seemed to be over, and each girl leapt into her daddy’s arms, smothering him with giggling kisses. I watched as Hannah sloppily made out with her coal-black daddy, letting his fat negroid tongue burrow deep into her mouth, sucking it like a cock as she was held against his chest like a toy. The racial animus inside me was frightening and base, and I was both aroused and ashamed, my cock nearing orgasm just from the lewdness of a blonde, blue-eyed white girl being so thoroughly  _ nigger owned _ .

The daddies retreated to large and comfortable reclining chairs with their girls hugged against the hips, and there they sat, five kings on five thrones, as their Dolls clambered on top of them and used their oiled bodies to massage and anoint the powerful men. I saw their slick pussy mounds, so succulent and inviting, rubbing over the chiseled, bulging abdominals of the men, spreading lotion and lubrication. I saw the girls barely-developed tits, poking around and under the dislodged bra cups of their lewd swimsuits, slathering oil over their pectorals.

The muscle daddies used their ogrish hands to cup the round, flawless,  _ nine-year-old bubble butts _ of the Dolls, feeling them, squeezing them, making the smooth and pert flesh bulge this way and that. Never before had I felt so envious of another man, and that feeling remains to this day. Below the girls, their penises, uniformly erect and massive, loomed with intimidating intent. The size difference seemed so  _ obscene _ . The cute, tiny, vulnerable girls… and the massive elephantine cocks of the daddies… a recipe for pure degradation!

One by one, I saw the girls lean against their daddies and nuzzle close, asking them, begging them, for the consummation of the morning’s play. The pale-skinned Doll with the black choker was first to open, and I heard her clearly. “Please, choke me while you fuck me, daddy,” she said. “I like it when you make it hurt!”

“Use me as much as you like, daddy,” said the girl with the pixie cut. She seemed to be the shortest of the five Dolls, and it seemed to me that the penis she contemplated was so large, it would cause considerable damage. Yet her eyes were earnest in asking for that destruction. “Don’t stop no matter what!”

“I want you to rape me, daddy,” Hannah purred. “Fuck me up with your huge nigger cock!” She and the pigtailed blonde whispered racially-charged talk into the ears of the leering bulls as they lay chest-to-chest, giving footjobs with their agile legs behind. Soon, all five girls were talking, egging their daddies on such that their voices became a cacophony. I feared to watch what would happen next, but couldn’t turn away. My knees in the hot sand, my cock a horizontal bar, tenting out my pants.

In unison, the daddies gripped their Dolls around their tiny waists with hands that seemed as large as dinner plates, and lifted them up with the ease of a child’s toy, poising their bottoms over each jutting, towering cock.

“No,” I gasped, mostly to myself. “That’s too big!”

The massive men showed no restraint, no mercy. I can only believe, thinking back on it now, that the girls must have wanted it that way, must have insisted. Each massive glans pressed briefly against the bald pussy mound of the corresponding Doll and then slid inside, like a magic trick. Immediately, their perfect, slender bodies were bulging with the shapes the huge cocks inside. The girls cried out with pleasure, their little tongues lolling from their mouths, their eyes rolling back. Per her wish, the pale-skinned, gothic Doll was being choked brutally as an eighteen-inch penis dug into her guts and bulged them, making her look as if she were impaled on a stake.

All five girls were lifted and lowered in a constant rhythm, the men not thrusting their hips but simply  _ dragging _ the tiny, impaled toys up and down their monstrous shafts. I watched the bellies of Hannah and the rest expand and retract as the penises sunk deep into their guts with penetrations that seemed impossible. Their limbs first flailed, then went limp and simply flopped up and down as they were lifted and dropped again and again. I realized they were having orgasms, their miniature bodies wracked with climax, again and again. Their faces ran the gamut of delirious, pained, fucked stupid.

It was the most obscene thing I had ever seen. The utter submission of it. Never in any scenario have girls belonged so thoroughly to men. I imagined the paradise of waking each day with my own personal Doll… an endlessly adoring, mischievous toy who would ask no questions, only service my body each day, all day, for as long as I wished. That was the seduction of the Valley of the Dolls. The curse, I knew, was that I would never experience it myself.

My penis exploded in my pants as I watched the daddies cum inside the girls, using them inhumanly as  _ receptacles _ , as  _ containers _ for semen. The ejaculations took minutes; so copious was their issue, it was flowing back out in explosive creampies that fanned from the base of each cushioned chair long before the deed was complete, staining the blankets and sand. It seemed impossible that the Dolls could absorb so much semen, but their small bodies surprised me yet again with their resilience.

One by one, the daddies rose and let the gasping, eye-rolling girls fall from their laps and settle into the cushioned chairs, legs played, mouths open. They looked like broken, discarded toys, so broken from orgasms and the rough treatment of their owners that they would never recover. Yet I knew, even without being told, that this was a daily ritual in the Valley of the Dolls, and that tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, they would kneel before their daddies and eagerly service their cocks, begging to be fucked even harder.

I have often thought about what life must be like for these men, these girls, in the years since. I have stopped my traveling and sex tourism - the pleasures available elsewhere seem to pale in comparison to the experience I have related to you. As I take my early retirement, the Valley of the Dolls has long lingered on my mind. 

Oh, how I wish I could return.


End file.
